Mother's Day
by MGMK
Summary: Para El Día de La Madre...For Mother's Day. Higher rating for language.


**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Just borrowing.

**Author's Note**: Hey all. Happy Mother's Day! Thanks for reading and reviewing and keep an eye out for a new (or several new) Fifty First Times chapters soon.

* * *

"Ooh, look, baby," Brittany says, grabbing for the remote and turning up the volume. "Mommy's on TV."

Interviewer: "You do _not_ look like a woman who gave birth seven months ago."

Santana giggles, ducking her head shyly. "Thank you."

"How is your darling daughter doing? We haven't seen her since that Vanity Fair spread you all did."

"She's doing great," Santana says, nodding. "Perfect. She's at home with her Mamma right now and they're probably not watching this because it's late but just in case they are: Hey sweethearts. Mommy'll be home soon. I miss you."

"Miss you too, baby," Brittany says aloud to the screen, talking over the interviewer's segue into questions about Santana's new album.

She knew this day would come – or this time rather – when Santana would have to go out on the road again, promote her music.

She's known it since Maya was born, but she's gotten so used to Santana being at home that their house feels huge all of a sudden. Almost like that time she was in that inflatable moon bouncer all by herself.

Santana's doing a quick three city tour and it's the longest they've been apart since Maya's been born.

It…well, Brittany thinks it kind of sucks.

"C'mon Pumpkin," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of Maya's head. "Let's get you ready for bed."

She's careful yet quick, changing Maya into one romper from another with the efficiency of someone much more practiced at the task.

It's a cute little plain white onesie with the words "My Mommies Love Me" spelled out in glittery, purple and pink paint on the front – a project Brittany'd finished long before Maya was even born and one that Santana found adorably cute at the time, even though she spent more time hugging the toilet.

She hoists Maya back up from the changing table, the baby instantly snuggling into her chest, and as she walks them back to the living room – because, Brittany's decided, their bed is much too big for just the two of them – her cell phone goes off, vibrating against her hip.

She fishes it out of her sweats, barely glimpsing the image on the display before putting it up to her ear. "Hey baby."

"_Hey, Britt_," Santana's voice sounds rather loudly across the line. There's a lot of background noise. "_Were you sleeping_?"

Brittany cringes. "Yes?"

"_Brittany_," Santana chastises, "_You're gonna mess with her sleep routine keeping her up like this_."

"We can't sleep," Brittany says sadly, plopping down on the couch, quickly shifting Maya so that she's cradled in her arms. "We miss you."

"_I miss you guys, too_," Santana says gently, the noise on her end dying down quickly. "_Hey, get comfortable and put me on speaker. I have an idea_."

Brittany frowns, her brow knitted in confusion. "San, didn't you hear what I said? Maya's still awake. We can't have fun phone times now."

Santana's breath hitches in that way where Brittany can tell she's trying not to laugh. "_I'm not talking about _that_. I'm gonna sing to you guys_."

"Oooh, May, free concert," Brittany gushes and Santana chuckles. She hurriedly puts the phone on speaker and sets it onto the coffee table before laying back on the couch, letting Maya lie on top of her, the baby lifting her head every now and again in curiosity.

"Okay, San. We're ready," Brittany says, dropping another kiss to the crown of Maya's head.

"_Any requests_?"

"Surprise us," Brittany whispers, closing her eyes and holding Maya in place with one hand.

Santana laughs again. "_The things I do for you. I hope there isn't some weirdo in the stall next to me recording this_." She clears her throat and soon Brittany's grin grows tenfold as the first lyrics float through the quiet of their living room.

_I've got sunshine on a cloudy day_

_When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May_

_I guess you say, what can make me feel this way_

_My girls…._

_Talkin' 'bout my girls…._

_My girls_

Brittany and Maya finally fall asleep.

***o*O*o***

In between belting out the latest Wiggles hit and sharing a plate of mashed banana is when Brittany decides she needs to find another adult and quick.

She loves her baby to death but she finally truly understands what Santana was talking about in those early months when she'd been home 24-7 with Maya by herself.

You can get a little stir-crazy.

So that's why she's walking into the doors of Puck's restaurant and bar – aptly named _Rest-O-Bar_, Puck be creative like that – at 11am on a Thursday, Maya gurgling happily in her baby carrier.

"Yo' Britt!" Puck calls, waving her over to the bar.

Brittany sets Maya's carrier up on the counter before reaching over and giving him a hug, ruffling his longer than last time hair as she does so. "Diggin' the fringe, Puckerman."

"What can I say? Sam's shaggy dog look goes over muy beuno with the ladies," he smirks, shaking Maya's little fist. "Ain't that right, Maya?"

"And we're still trying to pretend that you and Quinn aren't together, I see."

Puck scratches his head, looking a little sheepish. "Well, you know-"

"Uh huh, I know," Brittany interrupts with a grin, balling her fist up and nudging him in the shoulder.

"So, what do I owe the pleasure of the company, B?" he asks her, unbuckling Maya and lifting her out of her seat and into his arms, "Not that I mind getting a visit from my favorite niece."

"Just…felt like hanging out," Brittany says, not quite meeting his eyes. "And everybody else is either out of town or at work."

"And by everybody else you mean Santana," he says, laughing when she flushes. "God, you two. I'll never understand why you guys just didn't get married in kindergarten."

"We didn't know each other in kindergarten."

"I know that Britt," Puck says, rolling his eyes a little. "It's an expression."

"Where? Where is that an expression?"

Puck raises an eyebrow, patting Maya's back gently as he bounces her on his shoulder. "Whoa. Chill out. When did you and Santana switch bodies?"

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, tracing listless patterns across the bar top. "I…I've been kind of cranky."

"Yeah, I know. I feel the same way whenever 'you know who' goes on her feminism retreats with Tina," Puck says, reaching for her hand. "C'mon. Let's go to the kitchen. I'll get Ronnie to make your favorite."

Brittany's eyes light up, allowing Puck to walk her around the bar and back towards the kitchen. "Mashed up tater tots mixed with mustard and chipotle mayonnaise?"

"Yeah," Puck manages through a grimace, "That."

***o*O*o***

Six days, four hours and thirty-eight unbearable minutes later and Brittany feels like she can finally breathe easy again now that her family is in the same time zone.

"Baby!" Brittany calls, her eyes finally spotting a tired looking Santana, carry-on bag slumped over her shoulder.

The moment she sees Brittany her entire demeanor changes; her eyes brightening and pace quickening as a smile stretches widely from cheek to cheek.

"Brittany," Santana breathes falling into Brittany's arms – well, arm; she has to be mindful of Maya – embracing her amongst the sea of people flowing around them in the crowded airport terminal.

"I'm glad you're home," Brittany whispers, surprised by the onslaught of emotions she's feelings, her eyes prickling with tears, "Missed you."

"Missed you more," Santana teases, pulling back and cupping Brittany's cheek with one hand, trying not to smile at the happy tears she sees threatening in blue eyes. "Missed you both," she says, pressing a chaste kiss to Brittany's lips before nuzzling her nose against Maya's cheek, making the baby girl giggle happily.

"Come on," Brittany murmurs, lifting Santana's bag off of her shoulder and onto her own, not even straining when its weight joins the baby bag she's already toting. "Let's go home."

***o*O*o***

Brittany's got one eye on the television and one on Maya.

She's in the living room, waiting as Santana finishes up whatever she's making for dinner. She would totally be helping too if it wasn't for the last kitchen incident where she almost flambéed her eyebrows off.

As it is, she's been restricted to the living room and baby duty, which is actually a lot of fun because Maya can be pretty entertaining – even when she's not doing much of anything.

Now, though, the baby's pretty much content to just lie on the floor, grabbing for and moving around whatever multi-colored items she can get her tiny little hands on.

Brittany watches as the baby grabs a block…then shoves it away.

She grabs another….and shoves it too.

She grabs the last one she can easily reach, chews on it for a sec, and then throws it almost halfway across the room.

Brittany knows it'll only be a matter of time before Maya realizes that she's kind of screwed herself over in terms of fun, moving her toys so far away, and it's only a matter of time before she wriggles about fruitlessly before giving up and crying until Brittany supplies her with a new armful of playthings.

She knows it.

But then…

Maya's pushing herself up on two trembling arms, her tiny legs and bare toes digging into the carpet for leverage and Brittany…

Brittany's out of her seat in a flash, practically shoving the baby back down.

Maya – startled – starts to cry and it's such a sudden and authentic wail that Santana actually pokes her head in from the kitchen.

"What happened?"

"She….she-she-she," Brittany tries to say, keeping Maya in place, "She was…crawling, I think?"

"What?" Santana eyes widen as she crosses the room quickly, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel as she moves. "Are you serious?"

"Uh huh," Brittany nods, watching as Santana hoists Maya up into her arms. "Well she was trying to and I, uh, kind of… knocked her down."

She says the last part so low and instantly winces once she says it, expecting the worse. But all she gets is this incredulous stare from Santana.

Time for damage control.

"I was…shocked, okay? She was getting ready to crawl and I was like, 'Santana has to be here for this' but then when I went to call you I was so excited that I couldn't even remember your name and Maya starting pulling herself along and…and…I panicked," Brittany rushes out, looking incredibly apologetic.

She reaches for Maya and brushes the little girl's hair gently. "Momma's sorry, Pumpkin. I didn't mean to scare you."

Maya hiccups a little, still pouting, but her tears are gone, her nose being just a little pink is the only evidence that she's been crying.

"It's gonna take her awhile to get comfortable enough to try it again, now," Santana says quietly, brushing her lips against Maya's cheek as she speaks. Brittany looks down a little guiltily but Santana catches her chin, smiling at her warmly. "Call me a bad mother all you want, but I'm kinda glad she suffered this little 'setback'. If this means our little princess still needs her mommies to get around, I'll take it."

***o*O*o***

It takes Maya about a day and a half to attempt it again.

Brittany's in the middle of her third draft, bouncing ideas off of Santana about what she should do with the four-story staircase the bank requested.

"Spirals would be really cool – modern, you know – but, I mean, it's not ideal or, really that practical. Not when it's four stories tall," Brittany mumbles, mostly thinking out loud, but inviting Santana's input all the same.

"Whatever you decide, I'm sure they'll love it," Santana assures Brittany, stretching out her legs on either side of her. She's on the couch, leisurely running her fingers through Brittany's hair as the other woman rests in front of her.

Her sketches are scattered all along the coffee table and she's wearing her glasses, chewing on a pencil and looking – in Santana's opinion – like the hottest thing on the planet.

She spares a look at Maya, their daughter happily occupied with – surprise, surprise – a stuffed kitten, before she slides down off the sofa, legs moving down alongside Brittany's until she's fitted in just behind her, arms sliding around Brittany's waist.

"Britt?"

"Mmmhmm," Brittany murmurs distractedly, erasing a few lines and adding a few more.

Santana rests her cheek against her wife's back, her hands lightly scratching the fabric of Brittany's shirt. "Have I ever told you how sexy you look when you're all concentrated and studious?"

Brittany chuckles, pencil stilling on the page. "San…"she says warningly, feeling Santana's fingers inch their way toward the hem of her t-shirt.

"What?" Santana whispers back, feigning innocence even as she traces irregular shapes on warm skin. She drops a kiss onto the nape o Brittany's neck, having to stretch to reach, her eyes glancing over at Maya another time – it's force of habit now – and then-

"Oh shit," Brittany curses as her entire body is pitched forward, her hands letting go of her work and her pencil in order to stop herself from face planting into the carpet.

"Britt, Britt, Britt," Santana squeals excitedly, snatching up her cell phone and getting it into camera mode quickly. "Britt, look! She's doing it!"

Brittany pushes herself up on her arms, looking to where her wife is now trying to steady her iPhone in front of a precariously teetering Maya, the baby's arms and legs trembling slightly as she tries out her balance.

Brittany quickly pushes up off the ground, moving to coffee table out of the way before dropping to her knees just a few feet away from Maya. "C'mon Pumpkin," she says, waving the girl over with her hands. "Come to Momma. You can do it."

Maya finally snaps to attention, suddenly realizing that she has an audience, her dark eyes finding Brittany sitting on her haunches.

Slowly, and with about as much grace as Finn, Maya inches forward, encouraged by both her parents. In the end she only makes it about halfway to Brittany before she stops, working her chubby arms and legs until she's back into a sitting position, the plastic keys she'd been after in the first place firmly in her grasp.

Brittany scrambles over to her, yanking her up high into the air and laughing. "You did it, Pumpkin. You crawled."

Maya squeals delightedly when Santana joins the fuss, pecking kisses all over every inch of Maya's face, happy tears springing to life and running over her eyelids.

Brittany doesn't have to ask what they're about – she feels it too.

Maya's growing up.

***o*O*o***

"There you have it," Artie says, securing tight the last screw. "Your home is now one-hundred percent baby-proof. And here's the test," he says, rolling over to the living room window. "Finn!" he yells, "You can come in now."

Santana listens as Finn clamors up the steps to their house, loafing in with the grace of a knock-kneed giant. "Jeez guys. What gives?" Finn says, shrugging off his jacket and rubbing his hands together. "It's freezing out there."

"Sorry dude," Artie empathizes, putting on a mock frown. "Wait, didn't you say you had to go to the bathroom?"

"Oh, yeah," he says, turning to Santana and fixing her with a goofy grin. "May I?"

"Only if you let the seat back down," she says, rolling her eyes and holding Maya up on her knees.

"After you've let it up," Brittany adds after his fleeing back, watching as Artie holds up three fingers and begins the silent countdown.

Three.

Two.

One.

_Thud!_

"What the-" They hear the doorknob jiggle. "Guys!" Finn calls, voice sounding a little desperate, "There's something wrong with the door!"

Santana smiles.

"Perfection."

***o*O*o***

The thing about hate is – in spite of how ingrained in one's soul it may be – love always triumphs.

So Mrs. Lopez – with her bone-deep religious convictions and unshakeable moral superiority – eventually reaches a breaking point when it's been three months since she's last seen her only granddaughter live and in living color and her husband and own son won't share any details of their visits with her.

(Well, that's not entirely true, because Angel, on his last visit, couldn't resist bragging about the little shirt he'd managed to find that reads 'My niece is way more prettier than yours'.)

But it's still an unfavorable substitute, second-hand information about that gorgeous little lump of precious is just not going to cut it.

Sometimes, you just have to admit when you're wrong.

…

"_Brittany. There's a Mrs. Lopez on the line for you_."

Brittany smirks, her eyes flitting over to the framed wedding photo sitting on her desk. "Send it through," she says as her finger presses on the speaker button on her phone.

Her desk phone lights up as it rings and she takes a moment to relax, sitting back in her desk chair before picking up the receiver and husking into it. "Since when are we calling ourselves Mrs. Lopez?" she questions, her voice smooth and laced with clear undertones of sex.

"Since I married my husband," a woman – _not_ Santana – answers and Brittany almost chokes on her tongue when the accent registers, her spine suddenly going rigid as she sits straight up.

"Mrs. Lopez?" she squeaks out in question, her face turning a violent crimson. "I thought that – I, um-"

"Please, spare me," the other woman says, her voice clipped.

Brittany deflates in her chair. "Um…can I ask why you're calling?" she starts sheepishly. After all, the last time they'd spoken to one another it wasn't exactly civil.

To her surprise, the usually caustic yet eloquent woman starts stammering across the line. "I was…thinking that…well…"

Brittany's brow furrows as she listens to Santana's mom take a deep breath before starting again. "Mother's day is coming up and it'll be Santana's first ever…and yours. And I don't want to miss it. So, I'm inviting you both to brunch. And your parents are more than welcome to join us. And we can all celebrate together…as a family."

"I…" Brittany's breath catches, surprised by the emotion she feels, "We," she corrects, "would like that."

"Then it's decided. Sunday. 10AM sharp."

***o*O*o***

Brittany's careful as ever as she nestles the little bonnet atop Maya's head, securing the little ties in a loose knot.

She primps and preens her daughter, making sure that every bow is in place and every wrinkle is smoothed and that her little white tights are immaculate.

After the third time fussing over what Brittany has apparently decided is an unacceptable bow, Santana finally intervenes.

"Britt," she says gently, tugging the woman's elbow, "You have to calm down. It's just brunch."

"Yes," Brittany sighs, closing her eyes for a moment to collect herself, still bowed over an aloof Maya, sitting happily in her carrier. "Yes, just brunch. Just mother's day brunch with your mother who hates me. Maybe we should just cancel."

"Babe," Santana says, stooping down so that she's eye level with her wife, "Do you honestly believe my mom would invite us both to Mother's day brunch with the intention of giving us crap about our relationship?"

"San, that doesn't make any sense," Brittany says, frowning a bit. "Wait, intention and detention aren't the same things are they?"

Santana moves on, knowing sometimes Brittany's feigning confusion is a diversionary tactic, "And she wouldn't have called you if she still 'hated' you for turning me onto 'the dark side'."

"For real, though, what's up with that? Like, I'm a bi-corn. If she should be mad at anybody it should be you: the gay one."

Santana smiles a little at that one, taking hold of first Brittany's right hand and then the other, finally managing to get them off of Maya; their daughter's impatience is starting to become obvious as she starts tugging at the toes of her tights. "It'll be fine, Britt. I promise."

Brittany takes a deep breath, closing her eyes to steady her nerves and when she blinks them open again, she looks a little less anxious and a lot more relaxed. She gives Santana a crooked smile. "You're right."

Santana smiles. "Damn right I am. And, seriously, Angel _and _Jamie are gonna be there. On the off chance my mother does try something ludicrous those two'll probably whack her over the head with a stale baguette."

***o*O*o***

"Finalmente," Santana's mother murmurs, finally seeing her daughter and Brittany in the restaurant's entrance.

"Now, Lenora," Ernesto warns, speaking quietly so that only she can hear, "Be good."

"Cállate la boca, Ernesto," she hisses back, annoyed that he feels the need to caution her, as if she were a little child.

Santana and Brittany wind their way around the tables, and everyone rises to greet them, Angeles literally almost knocking the table over in his haste to get to the women.

"Where's my bug-a-boo?" he asks with the most adorably proud little grin on his face, and she watches with a steadily beating heart as Santana bestows a smile on him that's so loving, she almost can't believe it.

She waits her turn, watching everyone – Brittany's mother, father and sister, her husband and her son – fawn over the baby. She's wearing an adorable pink and white little dress, from what she can see and a bonnet on her head barely conceals what she's sure is curly dark brown hair, much like Santana's.

But then Brittany's breaking out of the group a little, a small – mostly nervous – smile on her face as she closes the short distance until she's standing in front of Lenora, Maya quiet and curious in her arms.

"And this is your other grandma Maya," Brittany says quietly, gently bouncing the baby a little. "You guys haven't spent a lot of time together but…I'm hoping that can change."

Maya, for her part, doesn't understand much of what's going on, but, well, remember that thing about love triumphing over hate?

It's about to happen again.

Maya grins, clapping her tiny fists together with a tiny squeal and Lenora's a goner, her eyes crinkling around the edges as she laughs with the baby, arms instinctively reaching out to hold her.

***o*O*o***

"_This_," Brittany decides, spearing a strawberry slice off of Santana's plate, "is awesome."

"The strawberry?" Santana asks playfully, smiling cheekily when Brittany cuts her eyes at her.

"No," she says, looking around the table at all the happy, smiling faces. "_This_. Our family. Together. Enjoying one another's company. It's the way it should be."

Santana sighs happily and leans her head on Brittany's shoulder, watching as her little brother tries to get Maya to say his name.

(Only Maya's more interested in his tie than anything his has to say so she keeps inadvertently choking him, which cracks Jamie up.)

"Yeah. This is totally awesome," she agrees, letting her eyes roam around the crowded restaurant.

She sees other families – all variations – engaged in similar behavior talking, laughing…just loving one another. And then she finds a pair of eyes trained on her.

Hardened eyes.

"Shit," she murmurs, looking away quickly.

"What?" Brittany asks, picking up on the tension in Santana's body straight away.

"Remember that crazy old lady from Babies R' Us?" Santana asks, patently avoiding looking in that direction again.

"Yeah. She was mean."

"Well, she's here," Santana mumbles, turning her face into Brittany's shoulder so as to obscure what she's saying, "And she's staring at us in a not so nice way."

"Maybe I should go talk to her," Brittany says, starting to look around but Santana holds onto her hand tightly, squeezing once to get her attention.

"Leave it. Maybe if we ignore her she'll just stop looking."

"Who'll stop looking?" Santana's mom asks them suddenly, startling them both.

"Um…no one," Santana lies, catching Brittany's eyes and silently telling her to keep quiet.

"Santanita," Lenora scolds lightly, her tone serious enough to catch the attention of everyone else at the table, "Do not lie to your mother. Especially not on Mother's Day. Now, dígame. What is the problem?"

Santana bites her lip, looking again to Brittany who – never one to stand firm under pressure – wilts. "It's not a big deal. Just, a little while ago this lady gave us a hard time at the baby store about Maya. We totally handled it and everything."

"Then why are you bringing it up?" Jamie asks, clanging her fork against her plate for Maya's amusement.

Brittany shrugs, not wanting to start anything but Lenora sees right through that. "Because she's here," she gasps, eyes scanning the crowded restaurant.

"Where is she?"

"Lenora," Ernesto says, already sensing what's about to come on. "Leave it be."

"I'll not leave it _be_, Ernesto," she fumes. "Some woman is making our daughters uncomfortable on a day that is supposed to be happy for them. No, I'm not going to leave it be. Now," she turns back to Santana, "Where . Is. She?"

Santana can't see a way out so she points to where the woman is – stupidly – still staring and Lenora's head swivels around to get a good look, her eyes narrowing when they meet the old lady's.

She pushes away from the table slowly and Ernesto shakes his head a little, rubbing his temple before flagging down the waiter.

They're going to have to leave soon.

"What – what is she going to do?" Brittany's dad, Ted, asks, watching the scene with wide eyes.

"Oh this is 'bout to be good," Angeles says as he sits up in his seat, turning Maya where's she's sat on the table so that she'll have a good view. "Pay close attention, Maya. This is where your Mommy got it from."

"Excuse me," Lenora says politely after finally having made her way to the woman's table. She smiles as warmly as possible at the other members of the woman's party before finally finding those hardened eyes again, "But I couldn't help but notice how…_attentive _you're being to my family. Are you not enjoying the company of your own?"

"I _was_," the woman says, her voice laced with vitriol, "But then those…_women_ came in here, insulting God and everyone here with their depravity and," she sneers, "that child-"

"Okay," Lenora interrupts, getting eye-level with the old lady, "First, those _women _are my daughter and step-daughter so I don't appreciate the way you're talking about them. Secondly, what happens with my family is _none_ of your business so, if you can remember that, you can eat your waffles and scrambled eggs in peace. And, lastly, if you ever make that face again while referring to my granddaughter then I will personally make sure it stays that way by rearranging it with my fists."

The woman gasps, holding a hand to her chest. "I beg your pardon."

"You heard me," Lenora says, straightening up. "Soy de Lima Heights Adjacent y no dar marcha atrás a nadie. Menos de todas las perras ignorantes como tú. Pero si quieres seguir intentando mantenerme mirando a mi familia como la que está haciendo, que sólo va a traer cosas malas. ¿Me oyes? Cosas malas!"

Ernesto grabs his wife by the elbow, tugging her away while smiling at the half-confused, completely perturbed group of people. "Very well," he says with a nod, "It was lovely to have met you."

"Britt, hurry up and put her coat on," Santana says, stuffing Maya's toys back into the baby bag as quickly as possibly but Brittany's still staring.

"Not gonna lie, San," she murmurs, watching Ernesto tug a fuming Lenora out of the restaurant, "Just got a glimpse into our future and…it was _glorious_."

***o*O*o***

"How many voicemails have you got, Britt-Britt?" Santana asks, shimmying out of her dress.

"Um…" Brittany slides her fingers across the screen, unlocking the phone until the picture of them kissing a laughing Maya on either cheek pops up, "Three. And some texts," she answers, placing the phone down on her nightstand before sliding open the drawer there, eyes on Santana all the while.

Santana hums, taking off her earrings and letting her hair down, oblivious to her mischievous wife approaching her from behind so she jumps when a strong arm wraps around her body, Brittany's left hand splaying wide across the skin of her belly as she busies herself with kissing the skin on Santana's shoulder.

Santana reaches her own hand down, her fingers fitting between the spaces of her wife's, their wedding rings catching momentarily. Maya's lying on the bedroom floor, her bonnet long gone and her perfect little dress wrinkled. One little arm is clutching her play phone; pressed against her ear as she babbles and her other hand plays with her lace-topped sock covered toes.

Brittany trails her nose along Santana's neck, pecking tiny wet kisses there until she reaches her ear. "Happy Mother's Day, Santana," she whispers, holding a card up so that it's in Santana's line of sight.

Santana smiles, rolling her head to the right until she bumps temples with Brittany. "But I didn't get you a card," she starts to say but Brittany just shushes her, pressing her fingers against her stomach.

"Just read it."

Santana flips open the card, smiling at the message Hallmark has scrawled but really grinning when she gets to Brittany's scrawl, tiny and slanted.

_Happy Mother's Day, baby! So, hey, it's me. Brittany S. Pierce, your wife. It's kinda weird to be writing you this message while you're snoring up a storm beside me – and oh baby, do you ever snore. It's like present me is writing to future you – like a message in a bottle. Maybe I'll hide this in one of those gross Lipton teas you like so much. Or maybe not. I can just imagine your face if you found out I poured one of 'em out. So, anyway, it was kinda hard figuring out which card to get you 'cause they were all so pretty and they all say these really nice things. So I asked Rachel and she…_talks so much_, you know? So that was a wash. And then I asked Quinn and she just kinda smiled a lot and got weird. I dunno. Maybe she was high. Kurt, though, he had the best idea ever. He said to just get one and then write what I wanted to say inside. Kurt's so unicorn. So, here's what I want to say. I love you bunches, sweetheart, and I will forever. Like forever and ever. And I also want to say thank you. Thank you for giving me the most amazing, beautiful, adorable, precious gift in the world – our gorgeous baby girl, Maya. The best day – well, one of the best days – of my life was the day you made me a mommy. Okay, so, in conclusion, you are awesomeness, I love you like an obese child likes sugary, frosting covered, confectionary treats. Ha ha. See what I did there? Now stop reading this card and give me a kiss."_

Santana laughs aloud when she reads the last line, leaning back against Brittany who sways them side to side for a second.

"You're so hilarious," she murmurs, turning slightly and pressing her lips against Brittany's smile. She kisses her soundly though chaste before she pulls back, eyes twinkling. "Happy Mother's day, Brittany."

Brittany grins, leaning back in to kiss her, pulling both Santana's arms to wrap around her shoulders before dropping her own around her waist. She moves them in slow circles, swaying their bodies to a song that neither of them can hear but that both of them know the rhythm of.

It's on the third and a half-turn that Santana stops them abruptly, hands tightening in Brittany's hair as she pulls away. "Oh my God, baby, look!" she gasps out, her rounding eyes finding Maya pulling herself up to stand on wobbly legs, her tiny fist gripping their bed sheet like a rope ladder.

She balances a little, her other little hand sticking out in the air and waving before she straightens up as best she can, letting out an amused little giggle when she's finally done it.

She looks up at her mothers, happy and oblivious to the joy she's just caused them.

"Maya," Santana whispers, rushing over to her, still clad in only a bra and slip, dropping down to her knees in front of her, "Look at you, Princess."

"Baby girl," Brittany coos, sneaking in a little kiss when she joins them, letting Maya grasp her fingers and take a few practice steps. "It's official, San. Best. Mother's day. Ever."

* * *

Translation (or what I am hoping it translates to) of Lenora's rant: "I'm from Lima Heights Adjacent and we don't back down from anyone. Least of all ignorant bitches like you. But if you keep looking at my family like you're doing, it'll only bring bad things. Do you hear me. Bad things!"


End file.
